


sometimes

by Poe



Series: Bite Tattoo 'verse [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (literally never thought I'd use that tag but okay? I'm not sure it's totally accurate but arghhhh), Bite Tattoo 'verse, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Communication, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, M/M, POV Stiles Stilinski, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Scenting, Set in a world where the nogitsune happened but the betas are all still alive idk man, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Stiles Stilinski's Scent, Stiles is An Adult, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos, They might be starting to use their words so, They're both nice things they deserve each other, They're in love your honour unfortunately they're also stupid, figuring out boundaries, mentions of past Stiles/Isaac, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poe/pseuds/Poe
Summary: "Sometimes, they do actually talk, is the thing. It’s slow going, but years of knowing each other, even in periphery, means that actually, when they get started, conversation tends to flow. That, and all the shared trauma.So Stiles learns about how Derek and Laura fled to New York like the fire was burning right behind them. He learns that Derek might be an alpha, but that means jack shit in terms of self-esteem. He learns that Derek is needy in the best way, that Derek likes being told he’s good, that Derek may not ever be able to love him, but damn, there’s a language they speak that fucking works."*(or: this is getting bigger than both of them, and the scariest thing is that Stiles thinks he might want that.)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Past Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski - Relationship
Series: Bite Tattoo 'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108868
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jesuisgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisgrace/gifts).



> Beta'd and thirst advised by the magnificent jesuisgrace (check out her fic because oof).
> 
> Part three of the Bite Tattoo 'verse. Probably read the other parts first, but like, you don't have to!

Sometimes, they do actually talk, is the thing. It’s slow going, but years of knowing each other, even in periphery, means that actually, when they get started, conversation tends to flow. That, and all the shared trauma.

So Stiles learns about how Derek and Laura fled to New York like the fire was burning right behind them. He learns that Derek might be an alpha, but that means jack shit in terms of self-esteem. He learns that Derek is needy in the best way, that Derek likes being told he’s _good_ , that Derek may not ever be able to love him, but damn, there’s a language they speak that fucking works.

And Stiles finds himself talking about the nightmares, about the big Trainspotting poster he still has on his wall because it was the first thing he could find that he’d be able to read from a distance in the middle of the night, just to check. He doesn’t even like that movie. But that line – _I chose something else_ , well, sometimes that’s shockingly relevant.

With Isaac, it’d been hormones and exploration and being the only two who weren’t hooking up with anybody else. It’d been real, and it’d been fun, and they still love each other like friends maybe shouldn’t, but with Derek? Derek is a moving target, impossible to pin down. There’s so much on the tip of Stiles’ tongue every time they’re together, waiting to trip out and ruin everything. Sometimes, Stiles looks at Derek and _misses_ him, even when they’re inches apart.

It’s not healthy, and Stiles knows it’s not healthy, but there’s a part of his brain that won’t let him let this go. That tells him _maybe_. With enough time, _maybe_.

And Derek, who is supposed to be so worldly, who exudes masculinity like he’s drenched in it, sometimes he looks so lost, and Stiles has seen him lose so much, over and over. So maybe time is what they both need.

So they fool around, and Stiles gets tattoos that make Derek all growly and possessive, and it’s – complicated. And really, really simple all at once. Because it’s animal, and when Derek has his mouth on him, the rest of it falls away, and sometimes Stiles needs to be fucked out of his own head.

The first time they moved beyond rutting against each other, and Derek had sunk to his knees, it had felt like worship. Stiles had looked down and seen this man, this man who he couldn’t put neatly into any box he tried to build, and Derek had looked up at him, those sea-green eyes wide and beseeching, like he was asking for permission.

It’d taken months for Derek to admit that was the first time he’d ever blown someone, that it hadn’t been sloppy by design but out of necessity, as Derek had wanted so desperately to do it, to get his mouth around Stiles and to coax it out of him, to taste him, and after, Stiles had barely had to touch him before Derek was coming too, and when they kissed, Stiles could taste himself in Derek’s mouth, and he kinda understood the whole werewolf scent thing a little more then.

Derek should always taste of him, Stiles had decided.

It didn’t seem like Derek was averse to the idea, either.

Derek is weirdly into British panel shows on Netflix, and Stiles is weirdly into Derek being weirdly into them, but right now, Stiles _wants_ , and so he pushes out his foot and rubs his toes against Derek’s crotch, just enough pressure to be demanding. Derek looks over at him, smirks, eyebrows communicating in a way Stiles didn’t think eyebrows could before he met Derek, and then Derek is _his_ , again, pulling at Stiles’ sweatpants as Stiles manages to get his hips off the couch enough for Derek to unwrap him like a gift.

Derek presses his nose into the crease where Stiles’ thigh meets his crotch, and inhales deeply, before pressing a kiss there and moving inwards. He licks his way towards his goal, and Stiles is so fucking hard already it’s like he can’t breathe with it. He wriggles, and Derek moves to hold him down, to keep him still, and the restraint shouldn’t be so hot, and yet it _is_.

Stiles whines as Derek puts his mouth on the head of Stiles’ cock, the warm wet heat like a revelation every single damn time. Derek sinks down lower, and Stiles’ hips try to buck upwards against Derek’s grip, and Derek tightens his hold in a way that Stiles knows will leave bruises, and he loves it. There’s a slow drag as Derek takes him all in, and with it, the smallest graze of teeth, careful, but deliberate, and Stiles could come right there, from that, and he doesn’t know what that says about him that he lets werewolves get so up close and personal with his junk, but he does and he’s a fiend for it, and so he whimpers, even as Derek moves his tongue as best he can, humming around Stiles, bobbing back and forth like he’s good at it, and he is, he’s so good, and Stiles is babbling now, about how good Derek is, how good he looks, how pretty, how perfect, how good he feels and what Stiles wants to do to him, how Stiles is going to make him come so hard after this, just – fuck, if Stiles can just get over the edge, and it’s like he’s going to explode, this is the thing that kills him, not all the fucking weird shit that actively tries to, but Derek fucking Hale with his mouth on Stiles’ dick, this is the end, the end is real fucking near and Stiles chokes out a warning and Derek just fucking smirks around him and then the world goes supernova and Stiles is coming and Derek is letting him, and Stiles falls, down and down and down, body lax, and all he can do is breathe.

Derek crawls up him, and Stiles doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must have, because he opens them and Derek’s mouth is a beautiful wreck of gloss red, and Stiles can’t help but surge up to taste himself, and Derek lets him, god, Derek lets him do so much, and he doesn’t know how he gets away with it, but he does. He’s not going to argue this.

Derek is hard, rubbing against Stiles’ hip, and whilst Stiles is boneless and exhausted, he promised Derek, and he’d give him anything, he wants to see him come, wants to give him that, so this is no hardship, so he reaches down and pops the buttons of Derek’s jeans and gets a hand around him, using the rough friction he knows Derek loves, always on the edge of painful, and it’s only a couple of minutes before Derek is coming too, mouth a beautiful ‘o’ as he ruins another of Stiles’ t-shirts.

Derek slumps down on top of Stiles, but in such a way that Stiles knows he’s being careful of his weight even then. He presses kisses to any part of Stiles he can reach, always finding his way back to that bite tattoo, and Stiles knows he has his hand fisted in the mess on the t-shirt, and he can’t find it within himself to care, and as Derek moves them so they’re laying facing each other, close, too close, on the small couch, too small for two grown men but somehow it works, Stiles buries his face against Derek’s throat and inhales, imagining what Derek must be able to smell, and taking in what _he_ can smell, the subtle hints of Derek’s aftershave, the smell of sweat and musk, the lingering sunlight from being outside all day. It should be weird that Derek smells of sunlight, but it isn’t. It really isn’t.

They could fall asleep like this, Stiles knows, because it’s happened before and it’ll happen again. He’s not sure what that means. He’s not sure what any of this means. They may talk now, but it’s still – a work in progress. It’s not perfect. And this is something – else. Something somehow bigger than the both of them. And it’s not going away, it’s not getting less intense. It’s growing. All the time. And at some stage, they’re going to have to deal with that.

He could say _do you think you could love me?_ and Derek could answer and it’d destroy everything. So he doesn’t.

He thinks he’ll fall asleep, the British comedians on the television laughing in the background, but Derek props himself up, sitting slowly.

“You could sleep in my bed, you know,” Derek says, and it’s an olive branch. It’s fucking more than that. Derek’s bed is out of bounds, they don’t – they don’t do this there. The couch, the floor, the small kitchen, the fucking preserve, yeah, but not the bedroom. Because that’d mean something new, and neither of them have crossed that threshold. Until now.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and smiles a little, despite himself, careful, so careful. It’s all so tentative, so breakable.

“More comfortable than the couch,” Derek says, and looks anywhere but Stiles’ eyes. Stiles knows how fast his heart is racing, and he didn’t think he had the energy to produce that much adrenaline, but suddenly he’s wide awake, trying to figure this out. “If you want,” Derek continues, looking unsure.

“I do,” Stiles says. “Sounds good, big guy.”

Derek rolls off the couch in a way that should look ungainly but instead looks impossibly elegant, before helping Stiles up, a hand around Stiles’ wrist that he doesn’t remove, even as they walk through to the other room.

It looks good there, the tan of Derek’s skin against the mix of pale and the black of tattoos of Stiles’ own. It looks really good.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a trial by fire. Reading blowjobs does NOT prepare you for writing them, it turns out. Can you tell I am the Most Ace? Anyway, shout out to Grace (eusuntgratie.tumblr.com) for not only beta-ing but also pointing out a million things that made this fic actually make sense. 
> 
> Comments make my entire day, you have no idea. I may not have the praise kink Derek has, but I like being told I'm doing a good job haha. Also let me know if you want any more of these weird lil fics. 
> 
> You can find me at jbbarnes.tumblr.com - throw prompts or headcanons at me, whatever is good. 
> 
> (Derek's favourite panel show is QI because he's a big ol' NERD.)
> 
> Erm yeah, I hope you have a good day and stay safe, take care.
> 
> (I'm going to try drag Grace into writing a guest fic for this 'verse, so leave comments if you'd like that. Unlike me, smut is very much her particular jam.)
> 
> (do I know how blowjobs work? no.)


End file.
